Interwoven
by Lliasa
Summary: AU Matthew Williams was your average high school junior, hopelessly in love with an upperclassman and with only an online friend for help. Tired of invisibility, will he make a move? And where could his story go from there? hiatus cos i'm an idiot. Sorry.
1. Chapter 1

_Ch1x13 has logged on._

"Thank god," Matthew breathed. His fingers sped over the keyboard in greeting.

_T0PSP1 is typing…_

T0PSP1: Hey! Wb

_Ch1x13 is typing…_

Ch1x13: Thx man. Ugh i hate life

_T0PSP1 is typing…_

T0PSP1: Whats wrong?

_Ch1x13 is typing…_

Ch1x13: Fired from part time job FML

Ch1x13: They said I was '2 bad tempered'

_T0PSP1 is typing…_

T0PSP1: That sux! Wat about that girl u liked?

_Ch1x13 is typing…_

Ch1x13: Bf. Np, tho. Shes a whore.

Ch1x13: Anyway wat about u? Any luck w/ ur boy toy?

_T0PSP1 is typing…_

T0PSP1: Hes not my boy toy!

T0PSP1: Anyway ive never tlked 2 him

T0PSP1: Prolly doesnt even kno my name.

_Ch1x13 is typing…_

Ch1x13: Dnt worry about it

Ch1x13: U'll be fine, ur a cute kid.

_T0PSP1 is typing…_

T0PSP1: how do u kno?

T0PSP1: gtg sry. Ttyl

_Ch1x13 is typing…_

Ch1x13: See ya later, Chickie!

_T0PSP1 has logged off._

Matthew closed his laptop and leaned back in his chair. The front door slammed downstairs, signaling the return of his boisterous twin. "3…2…1," he counted silently, relishing his last moments of peace. Right on cue a disheveled blond head peeked in the doorway, glasses slightly askew. The pout on his face indicated that something sure to be "positively horrible" had happened to him, and that Matthew was about to hear all about it. So he did not bother inquiring.

"Mattie," his brother whined. "Why is he so mean to me?"

The "he" in question was undoubtedly one Arthur Kirkland, a senior and Alfred's not-so-secret crush since freshman year. The only person still in the dark about his feelings was Alfred himself; even Arthur had at least some idea, although he had denial problems of his own. Oh, and their parents knew nothing, of course.

Matthew sighed in his seat and turned around.

"What did Arthur do this time, Al?"

His twin flopped down on one of the beds in the room they shared, childish hurt in his bright blue eyes.

"He _ignored_ me! All I asked was if he wanted to walk home together, and he said no!"

Alfred hugged a pillow to his chest and stared over at Matthew pitifully, clearly seeking sympathy. Although the petty nature of his worry grated on the violet-eyed boy's nerves, that puppy dog face never failed.

"I'm sure he was just busy, Al. Maybe you should—"

His words were cut off as his twin enveloped him in an enthusiastic hug.

"Thanks, Mattie! You're the best! I'll go text him and ask!"

With that, he bounded out of the room.

"—wait and try again tomorrow," Matthew finished weakly. "Or not."

No matter. This gave him time to start on his homework before dinner. Not that it would make a difference, at any rate. Teachers never noticed him in class, whether he did the work or not. Another kid in his position would have rejoiced, but these things were so common that Matthew could not bother getting excited. Rather than go unnoticed, he wanted to just lead a normal high school life. No one saw him, save to mistake him for Alfred and yell at him for whatever reason. Even Alfred himself only paid attention to his brother if he needed something. All other times he practically blended into the wall.

His bitterness at this reality was what had turned him to the computer in the first place. His screen name, "T0PSP1," had been born from his seeming invisibility. He really would make a successful spy, as long as he could find someone who could see him long enough to give him a job. Ironically enough, it was that username that had won him his first, and closest, online friend. "Ch1x13," or Chi, had thought that it was cool. He had sent a message, and pretty soon the two of them chatted regularly. Matthew was anything but invisible with Chi, and having someone to talk to and get advice from was new for him. On IM he could be himself, without the fear that halfway through a sentence he would see those telltale wandering eyes and that obvious loss of interest that came with near-invisibility. The downside was that, in the end, it was only the internet. As soon as he shut off his computer, real life and all its complexities rushed back in.

His best friend was someone he would likely never meet; for all he knew, Chi was in reality some middle-aged pervert. He didn't think so, but one could never tell. And, in the nature of such things, their friendship lacked permanence. If something happened to Chi "irl," he would never know. The reverse was also true.

Beyond names and places, Chi knew his deepest worries, the best and worst sides of him. Chi gave him advice on his love life, or lack thereof, and he tried to give the occasional piece of advice back. Matthew himself had never dated. Unlike his brother, however, he had acknowledged and accepted his sexuality years before. Being alone all the time left plenty of room for self-reflection, so when he realized that his heartbeat sped up at the sight of a hot guy rather than a pretty girl, he knew what it meant.

It took him the better part of junior high school to fully accept himself, but by the time he reached high school, homosexuality was the least of his worries. It wasn't like he would ever find someone who could see him long enough to want to date him.

He did have a crush of his own, despite everything. Gilbert Beilschmidt, well known, or rather, notorious, for delinquency and a penchant for hitting on girls. His best friends were equally famous; together they formed what teachers referred to as the "Bad Touch Trio," or occasionally the "Bad Friends Trio." Gilbert was always having fun, with his trademark smirk and ever-present mirth in his crimson eyes. It was as if he always saw the joke, even when others felt only solemnity. There _were_ stories of an unsmiling Gilbert, frightening rumors of blood and a cold, merciless gaze. Even the toughest of faculty and students were careful not to anger him.

As far as Matthew knew, those tales were only gossip. Regardless, Gilbert of the infectious laugh and wicked smile would never notice a nobody like Matthew Williams. Particularly a _male _nobody like him. Not that Gilbert was a homophobe; he was far from it, with friends like Francis (who would jump anything with a pulse) and Antonio (who everyone knew was in love with that Vargas kid). If anyone made a gay joke, even in passing, with the albino in earshot they would face his wrath, and most likely a black eye. However, "The Awesome Gil" himself was irrefutably heterosexual. All of his free time was spent flirting with (and getting rejected by) various girls, after all.

Matthew sighed again in his chair, twirling an errant curl around his finger. The fingers of his other hand twitched slightly; he wanted to turn his computer back on and see if Ch1x13 was still online. That would have defeated the entire purpose of logging off, however, so instead he pulled out his assignment folder. At this rate he would have enough time to finish half of his hopeless task before dinner and/or Alfred interrupted him.

* * *

**Here we go! I hope to update this relatively regularly, given free time and/or laziness. Laziness is a big factor. Anyhow, reviews are appreciated and quite the motivation. I tolerate flames, but be careful with my ego. It bruises.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Axis Powers Hetalia.**

**Gawd, I'm getting TONS of ideas just writing this. If I'm not careful, it'll morph into a bunch of other stories following this one, and suck away my practically nonexistent free time. Oh well; it's summer for now, so s'all good!**

**I really hope someone out there enjoys this XD  
**


	2. Chapter 2

"I'm bored."

The statement taken alone was simple and matter-of-fact, but, as such, it immediately sparked the interest of its two recipients.

"Dumped again, mon cher?"

"No luck with tu chiquita?"

The expression on the first speaker's face was such that someone with either a death wish or a heck of a heaping of self-confidence might venture to call it "cute." Francis Bonnefoy was the latter, and he did not hesitate in making the comment. One minor tussle later, Francis emerged the victor, having pinned his silver-haired friend to the bed.

"Not fair, Franny. You've got practice at one-on-one conquests."

"So've you, unless you have forgotten."

"Those weren't exactly 'one-on-one,'" emerged a third voice.

"That was one time, Toni, and we were drunk. It doesn't count. _You're_ the one who spent the next day in tears, blubbering about your 'tomatito.' It's not like you and your boy toy are even an item, anyway."

The brunet only laughed lightly and plopped himself down next to the pair on the bed, a lazy smile on his face. Francis also smiled, and soon they were all laughing, spread out in the bed in a rare moment of vulnerability and peace. They were like children; for each, it was a side only the others saw.

They fell asleep like that, Francis and Antonio intertwining fingers over Gilbert's chest, and Gilbert in turn reaching up to cover their hands with his own. Gold and brown hair intermingled with silver on either side.

* * *

The Trio made up an odd group. They had been friends as long as any one of them cared to remember. Longer, even.

Antonio Carriedo: tan, with an easy smile and a Spanish accent that made all the underclassmen swoon.

Francis Bonnefoy, who, despite being a charmer who flitted from partner to partner sporadically, had not been in a serious relationship since the Incident in freshman year.

Gilbert Beilschmidt, who had _never_ been in a serious relationship, despite good looks and convincing effort.

Together they had quite the reputation built up. In truth, they had never actually done half of the things mentioned in gossip. No murders, at least, and probably only a dozen heartbreaks (all of them Francis's doing).

They had already passed the precocious years of wild, uninhibited parties and substance abuse. Sure, Francis had his wine and Gilbert the occasional sneaked beer, but enough days spent nursing hazy memories and bad headaches kept them relatively clean. One scare with the police kept them sworn off drugs entirely.

They each had needed escapes in the past, and the world had thrown them willingly. Each had done things he regretted.

The turning point had been two years previously, long after the Incident but when it was still fresh in their minds. Freshman year was the year they cut loose. The next year, their childhood caught up with them. Memories of running around parks and just being _young_ flooded back that autumn day, when Antonio had caught sight of a certain Italian boy, _his _Lovino, entering the school as a new freshman. The myriad of emotions that crossed his face at that moment struck his two friends to the core. Pain, shame, and something deeper, something that gripped at the heart and squeezed it tight.

Francis and Gilbert looked at each other that day and made a silent pact to clean up. Whatever feelings they had about their own worth aside, they couldn't ruin Antonio's one shot at true happiness. It had taken time for them to cure Antonio of his fear of soiling his precious object of affection, but they had done it. He was the best one out of them, after all.

By senior year they were just your average badass trio, with a side serving of good humor and an extra-large dose of awesome.

* * *

Gilbert was the first of the three to awaken, inconveniently. He removed the hands from his chest and carefully extricated himself from the bed, smiling softly as Antonio rolled over to cuddle against Francis in the empty space. The blond, with some creepy sense that was alert even in slumber, curled his hand under the brunet's shirt, curving it around his tan waist.

With his signature "kesesesese," though somewhat muted, Gilbert pulled out his phone and snapped a few photos. That fiery Italian kid would totally flip out when he saw it, which would be entertaining. He could probably get a few bucks out of that Japanese kid for it, too.

That done, he crouched down beside his overstuffed backpack and began rifling through it. Various game systems were in there, along with some Japanese comics he'd been lent and a few heart attacks worth of junk food. His search was eventually successful; the hands were retracted from the depths of his bag, one holding an iPod, the other a bag of cheese puffs. He dove back in a moment later to pull out a pair of obnoxiously large headphones. Gilbert was rather proud of them. He had had them custom made online a few months back, and despite costing a hefty sum of money they were what he himself termed "awesome." The headphones themselves were completely white. The left side was marked with a black bird spreading its wings, which Gilbert proudly declared to be the symbol of Prussia. No one really knew what that meant or why it mattered, but they never asked for fear of a long lecture on _awesome places _and _how to be awesome. _

He parked himself by the wall, plugging in his earphones and popping a cheese puff in his mouth. Life was good. Well, at least until his friends woke up and got to see the picture. Then it would be chaotic.

Awesome.

* * *

**Yo! So, this chapter was a bit shorter O_o;;**

**Hopefully it wasn't inadequate. Yeah, I wasn't going to update this soon. Really. But then I was all *A* at all you people who reviewed/alerted it. There were even some who favorited it! So I basically had to type the next chapter. I'mma be in a car for liek 6 hours today, which sucks for me, but for you all it means I have basically nothing to do but write and sleep. So...we'll see. No promises on _this_ quick of an update again. **

**...guess what! Free time makes a pretty "whoosh" sounds as it flies away.**

**Peace doods. Hope someone lieked. Hope...hope I don't get lazy. Er. Lazier.  
**


	3. Chapter 3

_T0PSP1 has logged on._

_Ch1x13 is typing…_

Ch1x13: Hey man

Ch1x13: sup?

_T0PSP1 is typing…_

T0PSP1: Nm. Had dinner. Hw. U?

_Ch1x13 is typing…_

Ch1x13: Been thinking.

Ch1x13: U kno tht guy u like?

Matthew's heart rate immediately sped up. He had "come out," so to speak, to Chi soon after they had met, so this kind of advice was not uncommon. Even so, it made him nervous to imagine what Chi might be about to say.

_T0PSP1 is typing…_

T0PSP1: What about hum?

T0PSP1: *him

_Ch1x13 is typing…_

Ch1x13: u shud make a move

Ch1x13: I mean srsly, whatve u got 2 lose?

Ch1x13: chickie?

Ch1x13: u there?

_T0PSP1 is typing…_

T0PSP1: …

T0PSP1: …...

T0PSP1: …...

_Ch1x13 is typing…_

Ch1x13: c'mon! Ur a cute kid

Ch1x13: Id totally go 4 u!

Ch1x13: Well, if u werent so far away XDDD

_T0PSP1 is typing…_

T0PSP1: Well…

Matthew hesitated. _This_ was a real surprise. "Make a move…" on _Gilbert? _Of all people? His automatic reaction was flat-out refusal. But when he actually thought about it, why not? If he was going to stay invisible no matter what, _why not?_ He was sick of this helpless liking. Maybe he _should _make a move, get rejected, and finally be able to move on.

T0PSP1: Like whst?

T0PSP1: *what

T0PSP1: damn fail typing today..

_Ch1x13 is typing… _

Ch1x13: I dunno, like a hug or kiss or something

Ch1x13: flirt a bit

Ch1x13: yeah… u dont seem the type 2 be into groping XDD

_T0PSP1 is typing…_

T0PSP1: Not sure. Thx 4 advice tho

T0PSP1: ill think bout it

T0PSP1: nite.

_T0PSP1 has logged off._

Matthew certainly had a lot to think about. It was already past midnight; Alfred's soft snores ("They aren't snores! It's heroic breathing!") from the other side of the room were a result of the late hour. His twin could not understand his obsession with the computer, but then again, Al had friends.

"Mn…'rthur, d'nt eat my cheeseb'rger…"

Matthew could not hold back a small snort at that. Alfred F. Jones, ever the romantic. Even his subconscious always knew _exactly_ what to say.

Because it was so late, Matthew did not bother brushing his teeth or changing into pajamas. He crawled under the covers and closed his eyes, thinking about his red-eyed crush.

* * *

"Ah, um… Excuse me…"

A huge clot of teenagers standing around and gossiping by their friends' lockers clogged the hallway. A shy blond boy stood near the edge, shifting his weight from foot to foot nervously. His own locker was just a bit down the hall, so he needed to get through the crowd.

Tears pricked the corners of his violet eyes. At this rate he was going to be late to class, and it was only his first day! He stared at the floor, shrinking further into himself as more time ticked by with no response. Just when he was on the verge of crying, he heard a voice.

"Oy, get out of the way!"

Someone draped an arm around Matthew's shoulder and semi-dragged him down the now-clear hall.

"Hey, you're that new kid!"

And there it was, that sinking feeling in his gut that he was about to be mistaken for Alfred. Matthew steeled himself to give off his little "Ah, no, I'm his brother," spiel yet again. Then he looked up at his savior, who had still not moved his arm, and lost his train of thought. The face staring down at him belonged to quite possibly the most attractive boy he had ever seen. A mop of stylishly messy platinum hair hung loosely over red eyes and unusually pale skin. His lips were still crooked slightly upwards, although his forehead was creased in thought. Suddenly, whatever the boy was about to say mattered a whole lot more to Matthew; he found himself praying to whatever powers that be for Alfred to _not be mentioned._

"Hey, what was your name again?"

Matthew stared up at him, a light flush tingeing his cheeks,

"I-I'm Matthew, Matthew Williams."

"Gotcha, I'll remember that, kid! I'm Gilbert, AKA He Who Embodies All Known Awesomeness. Don't forget it."

He grinned wolfishly, making Matthews flush deepen.

"Anyway, see ya later, Mattie!"

The boy, or rather, Gilbert, patted Matthew's back and sauntered off. He would have been surprised to learn that what he had left behind was a _very _moved blond whose feelings were now in turmoil.

On a lighter note, Matthew _did_ end up late to class that day, not that anyone noticed.

**

* * *

**

Matthew woke up to an empty room. Alfred's morning routine was to rise around five and go out for a run. He said it helped him clear his head for the day, but it was also because he worried about his fitness. Being the in-shape star of the football team was important to him, and he put in loads of effort in his free time to make it seem effortless. Also, unconsciously, he always compared himself to the other kids and, at least in his own opinion, came up short. There was also that little thing of wanting a certain bad-tempered Brit to think well of him.

Matthew personally did not think much of his brother's habits, but at least it gave him space to get ready in the morning. His dream had decided him; he was going to do this. So he might as well dress to impress. Matthew generally liked to wear comfortable clothing, like sweatshirts and loose jeans, but today he was going to need all the extra confidence he could find.

He selected a pair of extremely black, extremely tight skinny jeans and a white belt with a sleek black buckle. His shirt was tight, accentuating both his slender frame and what muscles he did have. Matthew did not feel the need to exercise fanatically like his brother, but he _did_ like to be in shape. The shirt itself was white, and he clipped a shiny black watch around his wrist. He looked _damn _good; the outfit was simple enough, and appropriate for school, but definitely stylish. The ensemble as a whole he had never worn; each individual piece had been purchased for him by well-meaning family members (i.e. Alfred), and had hardly been worn since. Black Doc Martens (bought by Alfred when they went to a party of Arthur's. He'd explained that he didn't want to be embarrassed) finished it off. He thought about wearing a hat, as well, but his hair was acting unusually compliant. It curled around his cheeks in soft golden waves, and he was loath to spoil the effect.

He felt a bit uncomfortable overall, but the clothes were doing their job. He could do this.

**

* * *

**

When Matthew caught sight of Gilbert he was leaning against a wall in front of the school, chatting and joking with his two friends. He nearly gave up right then. It would be so very simple to walk by unseen and just pretend it was another normal day. Finally, in a moment of indecision, he continued on impulse. His heart was hammering in his chest and he could already feel the red rising in his cheeks.

Gilbert paused mid-sentence in surprise as Matthew approached, so he acted before his courage failed. He gripped the front of the albino's shirt in his hands and pulled him down, leaning up to press their lips together.

It began as just a soft brushing, simple contact. When he felt slight pressure in return he almost backed off entirely. Matthew had come this far, after all, so he instead took the challenge and allowed his lips to part slightly. He moved his tongue to complement Gilbert's as he felt it probe for entrance. Rather than a battle for dominance, they danced, picking up in passion and intensity. Matthew was swept up in the moment, giving back as good as he got. His hands moved from Gilbert's shirt, twining themselves in that silver hair. He could feel hands on his own back, tugging him in closer.

They kissed for longer than a few minutes; if there were any jeers or catcalls, neither noticed. When at last they broke apart, it was only for need of oxygen. A thin trail of saliva connected their mouths, and when it snapped the odd atmosphere between them snapped as well.

Matthew untangled himself and stepped back, panting slightly. He absently licked the remnants of their shared saliva off his lips, face cherry-red. At last his previous nerve completely disappeared.

"S-sorry," he squeaked, and ran off. School be damned. He could just call it a sick day.

* * *

**Hawt doggie! (yay. Weird phrase is weird. Does anyone even say that?)**

**I've pretty much updated daily now, despite my epic inconsistent hours! I feel awesomely heroic, like if Prussia and America had a child. Which would never happen. I mean, who would bottom? Or, better question, who would top? D**

**Anywho, I'm having fun. I wrote this in my long car ride, as expected, but didn't manage to type it until today because I GOT A NEW COMPUTER!! It makes me happy. But I had to redownload Word, which I did yesterday :D**

**If I keep being a winner I won't be able to use the laziness excuse anymore D: That'd be a sad, sad day. Darn it all, it's your fault! Yes_, you_ specifically, for reading this! I've gotten so much positive response that I find myself unable to not work on it ;w; It was depressive. I was in the car, and I played this little "I'll take a nap if I haven't gotten anymore email notifications" game while I was in the car, and _guess what! _I got no sleep during that time...**

**Gawd, my life is oh-so-very difficult.**

**Anywho, back on some sort of topic, I has decided to eventually branch out into other pairings/stories in this AU. I won't post any until this ficcie is either done or at least somewhat farther along, just so I can make sure to keep on task. So far I've plotted out a child!Giripan fic, and a past!FrUk/FrSeychelles fic that'd be set in freshman year and cover a buncha the BTT's issues. Sorry for those who are anti!FrUk, but in my AU it exists as a past thing; UsUk is the primary Uk couple, though it's not existing in Interwoven's time frame. I'll also do a UsUk fic, set a bit after(?) this one, and a SpaMano fic (heart!). _ME WANTETH STORY REQUESTS!_ Most pairings are okay; even if they aren't what I ship, I'd be willing to look for places to make them work in my world, like the FrUk-ness. I mean, people have a lotta relationships over a lifetime, 'specially around middle/high school when the hormones rage. It'd be unrealistic to assume that everyone, even in an epic Hetalia AU, would only date the one guy. (Or girl, but that's nawt very Hetalia). Be warned, however, that the end couples (i.e. present time) for the fic are basically set.**

**Now that my long A/N is done, time to sleep :D**

**Peace out, dood. s. Doods. Or dudes, if my awesome interpretive spelling is offensive XDDD**


	4. Chapter 4

"…Mattie?"

"You know him, cher? Do tell!"

"You should have told us you had a boyfriend, amigo!"

Gilbert ignored his friends; rather, he did not hear them. He was blown away. He had remembered the boy, Matthew, from that time a couple years back. He was a cutie, after all. Sometimes Gilbert saw those violet eyes watching him in the hallway. However, they had not spoken since that time, so Gilbert had been rather surprised to see him walk over. And looking positively sexy, as well. Gilbert did not know what to think about the kiss. He had enjoyed it. That was an understatement. It had made him feel weird; his heart was moving a bit, and there was something, some feeling he could not quite place.

Seeing the boy, the quiet, shy boy, who he had unconsciously been keeping an eye on since that first meeting, seeing him walk over dressed like _that_ and doing something like _**that.**_Gilbert could not keep his thoughts in order.

That kid, who always seemed so lonely, always trying his best without recognition, he had kissed _Gilbert Beilschmidt. _In _public._

"Shit," Gilbert muttered.

If he was being seduced, it had worked. The way that nimble, pink tongue had flicked out to clean his mouth, it was criminal. Gilbert remembered other things that tongue had done. He shook his head. Better not to dwell on it.

"Damn it. We're cutting today, guys."

It was not a question or suggestion. Francis and Antonio shared a glance and shrugged. They saw the barely visible, entirely uncharacteristic pink that had risen high in their friend's pale cheek. And it was not like they ever attended class, anyway.

Before they left, all three glared at the small crowd that had formed. The poor students that saw those cold red, blue and green eyes would never sleep _quite_ the same again.

"If a hear _one_ fucking rumor about this, you're all dead."

"I'm afraid I must agree. That would be quite unacceptable, non?"

"Run away quickly, kids. Gil and Franny are scary when mad, si? Oh, and if I hear anything bad I'll be after all of you, too. Comprenda?"

Antonio's was paired with a sickly sweet smile, and was most likely the more frightening of the three.

The trio did not need to wait for a response. They strolled off, carefree expressions returning. It was a nice day, after all, sunny and neither too cold nor hot. Only a hint of sternness in the set of their jaws and a glint deep in their eyes proved the earnestness of their threat.

The Bad Touch Trio looked after their own.

* * *

They got to the local mall within ten minutes, choosing and empty table in the corner of the food court to inhabit. Francis and Antonio chose to sit next to each other, across from Gilbert. Their gazes were disturbingly predatory. They merely sat in pointed silence, waiting for answers to the unvoiced questions. At last Gilbert cleared his throat.

"His name is Matthew Williams, in case you were wondering. And before you ask, we aren't dating. I don't really know him all that well. I guess he just couldn't resist my overwhelming awesome!"

The last bit sounded a bit forced and unnatural; even Gilbert's spectacular ego was a bit distracted. Blue eyes blinked, then narrowed slightly.

"What now, then? You did not seem bothered by his..advances. Au contraire, one might think you rather enjoyed it."

Antonio reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, flashing the screen toward his friend.

"Si, look! I took a picture!"

"_I_ took a video."

Gilbert blinked, looking at the photo. He paused for a moment, and then broke out grinning.

"Awesome! Don't forget to send 'em to me, dudes!"

"Antonio, it seems our little Gilly is growing up!"

"Love is wonderful, si? I remember when he used to run around flipping the skirts of girls he liked during recess."

"Oh, how time flies…"

They turned and locked hands in mock drama as the albino began to sputter.

"I did not! Well, maybe sometimes, but it was awesome! Don't deny it. And I'm not in love with Mattie!"

"The lady doth protest too much, methinks!"

"Seriously, damn you! He is cute, though.."

Francis raised an eyebrow and turned to Antonio, who mirrored his expression.

"But I'm not in love. That's so unawesome!"

Irritated by the expressions on their faces, Gilbert at last deflated slightly.

"Maybe I like him, just a little. He was fucking awesome at kissing! Wouldn't've expected it. I mean, his looks scream _pure. _Like, you'd wanna look after 'im or something, I dunno!"

Green and blue eyes blinked in unison. Gilbert, talking about wanting to do something positive for someone? About an underclassman? Antonio whistled.

"You're in deep, man."

The blond reached out and grabbed Gilbert's hands from across the table, a look of suspicious wide-eyed innocence on his face.

"I'm here for you, ami. If you need advice, condoms, lube, suggestions for seduction, a private location, or anything at all, I'm your man."

Gilbert jerked his hands free, that telltale color in his cheeks from earlier returning, noticeably deeper.

"I can get my ow—I mean, I don't need that stuff! We're not a couple! And…"

His voice dropped for the last part; Francis and Antonio had to lean into the table to hear.

"What if he doesn't like me at all? What if…it was a dare, or something fucking stupid like that?"

He adopted a mocking tone.

"'Ten bucks to kiss the freakshow albino!' or 'Do it and we won't beat you up!' It's happened before."

Stare. Blink. Assess.

Coming from Gilbert, these were serious thoughts. For all their teasing, neither Francis nor Antonio could have foretold that kind of honest confession from their sarcastic friend. This time, when Francis reached over to grip Gilbert's hands in his own it was not in jest.

"Not to be too blunt, but shut up. I don't know your petit Mathieu, but even _I _have eyes. You can't fake those things; it's l'amour!"

"Ja, but—"

"Shh, shh, I know. Your heart's desire is to completely agree with my masterful opinion. I _am _the love guru, after all."

Antonio snickered at that.

"Franny's being creepy again! But, he's right, this time."

Francis placed his free hand on his chest and widened his eyes in mock offense. "I'm _always_ right!"

The brunet merely grinned and punched him lightly in the shoulder before continuing.

"He looked like mi Romanito, red like a tomato!"

"Well, I _am _the most awesome thing to have ever existed, of course he'd react like that…"

Inward sighs of relief; an insecure Gilbert was frightening.

"I'll just talk to him tomorrow, I guess!"

The rest of the day followed a well-tested pattern; mall food and loitering for the first few hours, mind-numbing time at the local arcade (Gilbert), an hour or two picking up girls (and boys) at the local park (Francis), and finally a stop by the grocery store to get ingredients for Antonio to make them food. As long as one was fond of tomatoes, the Spanish boy was quite the cook.

They parked out at Gilbert's house; Ludwig was at school, and his parents could care less. They had spent the previous day at Francis's apartment; his parents had bought him his own place after the Incident. They had practically disowned him, save the obligatory checks that arrived in the mail every once in a while.

The trio rarely spent time at Antonio's house. His parents had passed away years before, and he lived with his grandmother. Regardless the situation she approached with an accepting smile and an understanding hug, lines creasing her wrinkled face. She was always willing to make food and listen to minor complaints. Visiting was refreshing, but it was far too painful for Gilbert and Francis. So they often stayed away, instead filling their own quiet houses with noise and laughter.

* * *

Francis and Antonio left when Ludwig returned from school. After making a show of greeting (read: molesting) Feliciano, who had come as "Ludwig's study-buddy, ve~!" they were on their way. Alone at last, Gilbert locked himself in his room and sat down at his desktop. His computer was an old, boxy thing, but it operated on some of the fastest systems; he had paid a freshman from Estonia twenty dollars to rig it up the year before. He would have asked Kiku, but he was afraid it would have turned out like the last time he had asked him for technological help. He had passed on his laptop for repairs, and while it _did _run faster when he got it back, it also fit in the palm of his hand. Not wanting to miss a chance to make money, he had sold it as a novelty on eBay for twice the original price.

Now, despite its decrepit exterior, he had one of the better computers available. Its appearance was a blessing in disguise; no one wanted to borrow it, so it was safe from being accidentally broken, as long as he could remember to keep hot beverages away from the keyboard.

_Ch1x13 has logged on._

"Damn," he stated. None of his usual friends were online, which was a shame because he needed someone to talk at. Instead, he wasted an hour logging onto various online games and breaking the high scores, just for the sake of it. Eventually he heard a ping from his semi-forgotten tab. He exited his other window and went to check the message.

T0PSP1: I did it.

_Ch1x13 is typing…_

Ch1x13: congrats

Ch1x13: howd it go?

_T0PSP1 is typing…_

T0PSP1: dunno. Kissed him and ran away.

T0PSP1: he did kiss back tho

_Ch1x13 is typing…_

Ch1x13: good sign I guess

Ch1x13: had a weird thing happen 2 me 2

Ch1x13: made out with this kid

_T0PSP1 is typing…_

T0PSP1: cool. was she cute?

_Ch1x13 is typing…_

Ch1x13: he

Ch1x13: and yes, adorable.

Ch1x13: odd tho. Came outta nowhere.

Ch1x13: O well.

Ch1x13: …?

_T0PSP1 is typing…_

T0PSP1: I..gtg!

_T0PSP1 has logged off_

"Well, that isn't much fun."

With nothing more important to do, Gilbert returned to crushing ten-year-olds on online gaming sites.

* * *

**...;w;**

**I'm tired...gah. Had an awful day. Really...siiiiigh. Honestly, writing this was the best part of meh day xD Plus, any of y'all who reviewed, or even just alerted, you cheered ore-sama up! So ya.**

**This was a cool chappie. Gil-chan is fun to write. OHYA. Betchu saw that coming xDDD Now I get to explain his name, Ch1x13. It's cuz he'da been all "Chicks13, cool!" But it could also be read "Chicksie" which rhymes with "Trixie" etc...and sounds feminine...-giggles- Totally useless and meaningless, but it entertained my teeny brain cells. **

**I feel like I wanted to rant about something, but since it's late and I'm sleepy I don't quite 'member. Sigh. I'm 'bviously pretty sharp. Liek an icecube. **

**Peace out :D**


	5. Chapter 5

Matthew moaned, scrolling back over a few of their earlier conversations. Chi was Gilbert? Or rather, Gilbert was Chi? There was not any other plausible explanation; all the facts added up.

Large ego, check.

Strange username, check.

Age, probable.

Looks, possible.

Location, check.

He _did _live in the same city as Chi, at least according to what he had been told. His "stranger-danger" senses, still somewhat active, had prompted him to name some random town a few hours away for his own home. He had been talking to Gilbert all this time, to get advice for his relationship _with _Gilbert himself. What could be more embarrassing?

Well, a number of things, most of which Gilbert was featured in and many more which were now running through Matthew's head.

On the bright side, Gilbert (hopefully) did not yet realize his identity. Not that he thought the albino was stupid, or anything. Just a bit dense, perhaps. Dense enough not to infer that Matthew had lied about where he lived, at least. Maybe.

Matthew had been able to trick his parents into thinking he was sick with fair ease; the odd flush in his cheeks had been enough to convince them. If he was lucky, he would be able to pretend a little longer, or maybe just change schools and disappear. Thankfully, Alfred had been banished to the couch for the night. He had a major game in a few days and, as their father explained, it was key that the star player kept his health up.  
Of course, knowing him, Alfred would burst in every once in a while with something or other to help Matthew "get well." He had already tried videogames, magazines, a burger (Matthew nearly _had_ gotten sick at the sight of the ten others still in the bag, presumably for Alfred himself) and some "soothing" rock music, turned extra-loud to "drive off the sickness."

Matthew had merely snuggled under the covers and pulled a pillow over his head, reaching over to discreetly turn the music off after his brother finally left. He did not need a headache, on top of everything.

From the odd smell wafting over and loud clattering from the kitchen, he could tell that he was about to be intruded on again. An especially loud shout of "Mom, where's the can opener?" alerted him to Alfred's intentions. The daylight was already fading when he heard the loud steps coming up the stairs.

"Mattie~ I brought you some soup! Soup'll make ya better, right?"

Crickets chirping would have been a suitable sound for the moment, but it was out of season. Matthew made do with a muffled grunt.

"Leave me 'lone."

"Awh, don't say that! I know you love your awesome brother!"

Matthew cringed visibly at the use of the word "awesome." If there were an award for "Least Useful Person in Any Situation, Ever," Alfred would have been a top contender.

"Go 'way."

On another day he might have regretted the small flash of hurt behind Alfred's clear glasses, but today Matthew just wanted to sulk in solitude.

"That isn't very nice! I'll forgive ya 'cause you're sick, and heroes don't bully the weak!"

"Not like you make much of a hero…"

Matthew started at the sound of his own voice. His unstable emotions had made him speak aloud; he had only meant to think that. If you wanted to get at Alfred, a sure-fire way to get a rise was to question his heroism. Even _Arthur,_ who bickered with him on a daily basis, never pulled the 'unheroic' card. Now those blue eyes _did_ flash, this time in anger.

"I'm totally a hero! _You're _the one who never does anything!"

_That _certainly got a reaction; Matthew sat upright in bed and glared, tossing off his blankets.

"Who's fault do you think that is? When's the last time you ever helped someone, for real? I'm _always_ getting picked on by people who think I'm you, and you never make and effort to correct them!"

"Wh—" Alfred began in rage, but Matthew cut him off.

"I'm sick of always having to take responsibility for your idiocy."

Somewhere in the back of Matthew's mind, a horrified voice was screaming at him to just stop there and try to salvage the argument. But the words kept spilling out of their own accord, months of pent-up anger and frustration with his own self released as a torrent of cruelty directed at Alfred. His voice took on a sharp edge, although even in extreme anger he hesitated slightly.

"Y-you don't even know _yourself_, let alone how to solve the world's problems! _Have you ever wondered what those feelings of yours about Arthur __**meant?**_ You're gay. You like a man, one who probably doesn't like you back, and thinks you're strange and annoying and silly and maybe doesn't even know who you are!"

Matthew choked back a sob. He had not noticed when he had begun to cry, but now tears were weaving their sparkling trails down his cheeks. During that entire time, Alfred had stood frozen. The anger had fled his face, leaving behind some emotion that Matthew could not quite decipher with his blurred vision. The bed dipped beside him as Alfred sat down.

"You aren't really sick, are you?"

The room was silent for several moments, punctuated only by the occasional noise from the kitchen, where their mother was most likely taking care of Alfred's mess.

"It's…I—and Gilbert—and I—well, I… S-sorry, Al…"

"I know."

He placed a tentative hand on Matthew's shoulder.

"I..heard a rumor. Of you, well, y'know. 'most everyone's not talking, but since we're brothers… Plus, Artie kiiinda maybe mighta…sentmeavideo?"

Violet eyes widened in surprise. Sheer embarrassment killed the tears in his eyes. His heart dropped.

"A video? Delete it!"

"But, it's so—I mean, it's my duty to keep track of the evidence, just in case. S'yeah, apparently that French guy he hates sent it to him. Artie didn't _exactly _mean for me to see it, but I stole his phone."

A smirk at that; Alfred was most likely recalling something Arthur had said.

"If that Beilschmidt kid is mean to you, tell me! I'll take care of it!"

Alfred either did not see the doubtful expression on Matthew's face or chose to ignore it. Instead, he reached over with a grin and pinched Matthew's cheeks upward in an imitation smile.

"Buck up, Mattie! And you might wanna wipe your face. It's covered in snot and stuff."

Matthew felt horrible. He had lashed out at his brother, yet all Alfred had been was generally understanding and nice. That little glimmer of hurt and anger was still visible in his eyes, but it seemed Matthew's impulsive twin had more self-control than expected.

He struggled to find appropriate words of apology while Alfred stood up and began to walk out of the room. He stopped at the door, speaking again before Matthew had a chance.

"I'm gonna take a run to clear my head. I still forgive you, an' I know you didn't really mean it or anything. However…"

He grinned wickedly.

"As payback I'm gonna tell my that my special soup totally made ya healthy again, 'nough to go to school tomorrow."

"But—Fine. I…Fine."

_He'll probably ignore me, anyway _was Matthew's thought. He bit his lip and spoke again.

"Arthur doesn't think badly of you, or anything. It…it wasn't you I was talking about. I'm sorry…"

"It's cool. I don't love Artie, anyway. We're..friends," Alfred responded, expression unreadable. His voice was confident to the point of foolishness, almost _daring _Matthew to argue. Which he did not; he had already spoken far enough out of line for one conversation. Now he needed to find a way to properly make up for it.

"I won't tell mom and dad, by the way. That's up to you. Dad probly won't take it well; you know how he is about _"those fucking queers"_ and all. You better take care."

Then Alfred left, closing the door behind him.

"You, too," Matthew whispered once he was out of earshot. "You, too."

Now to try that chicken soup, which (with any luck) would be at least edible. How badly could Alfred have done, making a can of soup?

* * *

**Emo PMSy Mattie FTW!**

**I felt all bad writing this XD**

**I was all "Dammit, just shut up already!"**

**But he didn't. Poor Alfie. Next chapter's gonna be a little omake type thing, which'll be from Al's perspective. **

**Ah, and I bought an awesome rainbow notebook to write this in. I'm officially in love with Staples; as of now, I am the owner of epic flag-shaped pins XDD **

**Today was fun, but tiring. I lugged my computer around the city for pretty much no reason, since I didn't type much XD But I wrote a bunch. Plus, apparently my thermos is super epic. I poured tea at 10 A.M. in it to drink, but being uber-smart as always, forgot it in my bag until 7:30. And it was still warm. I enjoyed it xD**

**Peace ;3**


	6. Omake 1: Alfred

Alfred needed to run. Desperately, painfully _needed _to. Thankfully he was already dressed more or less correctly in a t-shirt and shorts. All he needed was to pull on his sneakers and hit the pavement. He could hear the shower running in the master bathroom, so he did not bother looking for his mother. She would figure it out when she was finished, seeing as he often did such things.

His iPod sat placidly on the counter; his hand hovered over it for a moment before passing over. Music often worked as an escape for him, but this time his thoughts needed no playlist. Plus, with his luck, either some sappy love song or cheesy ballad would pop up and distract him.

He ignored the crisply expensive new shoes his father had purchased in a moment of good-natured pride, instead shoving his feet into the ragged old sneakers he had hidden under a coat in the hall closet. His sweat was literally infused with the stained cloth, although blood and tears never quite dripped that far down. Except that time he had gotten a nose-bleed on an especially dry day, forever immortalized by a small brown blotch on the left's toe. And, under extreme duress, Alfred might be forced to admit a few traitorous tears slipping out during a particularly stressful practice. For all their used, ratty appearance, the shoes fit snugly on his feet.

The door opened with a small squeak; they really needed to oil the hinges. And he was off into the night, feet slapping rhythmically against the pavement.

_Step, breath._

The first mile was the worst. It always was. His legs complained fiercely at the fast pace he set and his lungs were burning. Blurred scenery whipped by, suburban homes with well-tended gardens. He concentrated on pushing through his weariness, flying down the empty sidewalk. No passersby were around for him to avoid; the hour was late and they lived in a secluded neighborhood.

Dusk had come and gone; now streetlamps here and there began to flicker on, leaving pools of amber light along the road. A brisk wind rose, chilling to a sweaty body.

_Step, breath._

At last the pain began to ebb away. His pace did not falter but his body had grown used to it, allowing hours of strenuous practice to kick in. With the burning ache pushed back, although not entirely gone, his thoughts returned.

"That's m'boy!"

_Step, breath._

"You're _gay."_

_Step, breath._

"Learn to take it like a man!"

_Step, breath._

"Boys don't cry!"

_Step, breath._

"Suck it up, kid!"

_Step, breath._

"You're in love with a _man_."

_Step, breath._

"Don't be such a pussy!"

_Step, breath._

"Daddy's little boy."

_Step, breath._

"I'm proud, son."

_Step, breath, lie; "_That pricking in my eyes is because of the wind, I swear!"

Mantra after mantra was ground into the concrete beneath his feet. _I'm a man, an American. I make my father proud. It is my responsibility. _Step by step, in a straight line. No swerving off the beaten path. No thoughts of _shining emerald eyes _(_Step, step, breath_) or _pale, creamy skin (Step, grit teeth_) or that _adorable angry pout _(_step, falter, step again)_.

None of that. He was Alfred F. Jones, the kid who laughed along with those obligatory comments, of "That's so gay" and "He's such a fag," and still more, who threw in a few of his own, undermining others, but what did it matter? He fit in. So what if it all secretly bothered him? The other options, the unthinkable, were to slip into the fray, to move to the edge. Leave the spotlight, praise and recognition; become not average but an aberrant disappointment.

To become a queer, a deviation, an abnormality, to suffer fear and hatred and shame. To stand against his beliefs of America and a loving society, his set future of 2.5 children, a wife, dog and house in the suburbs.

His choice ought to have been obvious. Why should he throw away all of the love and kindness his parents had shown him, raising him and teaching him how to _be. _

He understood that things were different for Matthew. Perhaps his father even expected it of the boy, or at least foretold it with years of comparing him to Alfred and him always falling short.

Alfred ought to feel lucky, to be the loved, popular one. The one who always stood out, who helped little old ladies cross the street and played the role of the perfect son. But, by being the role model, the teenager that mothers across the nation prayed for their children to become, by living this life, where was the chance to merely be_ "_Alfred."

With no expectations, one could slip into the shadows with more ease. But from the spotlight, where was there to go?

Where did his heart factor in?

"The higher you go, the harder you fall."

So he flew, turning onto darker streets and empty alleys, venturing out of the small scope of his daily existence.

By the fifth mile his breathing was ragged, puffing small white clouds into the air. His foot connected with an empty beer bottle, sending it across the sidewalk to smash into a brick wall and shatter. And he bit his tongue, tasting iron and salt. The steady beat of his heart mingled with car horns and drunken shouting.

He was far from home, by now. His mother would have long since finished her shower and changed for bed. His father was most likely just arriving home from work. Hopefully Matthew was sleeping. Eventually he would need to turn back, but for now his powerful stride did not waver.

_Step, breath._

But what about the other side of America?

Of Freedom, of Truth and Justice For All?

What of those people who were just living their lives, loving and smiling and raising their children together? Where did humanity end and everything else, the "monstrosities" begin?

What of his brother's gentle smile, which shone through pain and loneliness and rejection? What of his heart, which did _not_ beat faster at the sight of bushy eyebrows, sarcasm and choppy golden hair?

His parents, friends and classmates were not wrong, surely.

But, were they right?

His steps at last turned inevitably homeward. Before he returned to the warmth of shining smiles, hamburgers and heroism, he would wipe that saline liquid off his cheeks, that liquid which was surely just sweat.

He was ready to face another day.

* * *

**So….yeah.**

**This was the little omake chapter from Al's perspective. I don't really know if it was horrid or not, but I felt like I had to write it, somehow. Ugh, society's such a punk.**

**DEVIATION IS LOVE. Like yaoi. **

**Next chapter'll be back to the plot :D  
Might take a bit longer to go up, though. I'mma be a bit busy, but I'll do my best.**

**I got my hair cut all shortish today. It was fun. But I spent the entire time thinking about Hetalia xD**

**If anyone has any suggestions for my (coughfailcough) writing, please leave 'em in a review ;3**


	7. Chapter 7

"Hey, Mattie! Glad you could make it!"

Gilbert smiled, dashingly handsome as always. His moon-silver hair fell smoothly around his perfectly sculpted cheekbones. The soft light reflected off his eyes, making them glimmer like dew on a scarlet rose. The sun hung in the heavens above, an amber-encased inferno. The way its rays crept across the land resembled maple syrup spilling over the edges of a pancake, and Gilbert said as much. Matthew smiled in appreciation and blushed prettily.

One of Gilbert's teeth ached at the sweetness; he contemplated mention the potential cavity to the blond, but could not quite find the words. Everything was coated with sugar, and he licked his lips. Soon he bent over and clasped Matthew's delicate hand in his own, moving to brush the knuckles in a tender kiss.

"Shall the Awesome I hold this for you while we go for a walk?"  
The blush deepened as Matthew stuttered out a quick "Y-yes," obviously intimidated by Gilbert's good looks and gentlemanly ways.

They sauntered along hand in hand, lost in each other's eyes. Matthew's were limpid pools of violet framed by feathery black lashes. Sunlit fields of golden wheat surrounded the path they walked. Gilbert decided to use that metaphor to describe Matthew's shining hair.

Suddenly the fields they were walking by changed; luscious red tomatoes replaced the stalks of wheat.

"Hey, look! That one's Antonio! Hey, Toni!"

They did not pause to chat but merely kept walking, waving back at the tomatoes as they passed. Eventually they stopped to rest under a graceful willow, Gilbert gallantly spreading his jacket for Matthew to sit upon. He hardly minded losing the garment; underneath it he was wearing a delicious black t-shirt, so tight it almost seemed airbrushed on, that showed off his toned abs.

It was a beautiful day, with the light streaming through the willow branches and patterning gentle dappled shadows on the grass. A gentle fluttering interrupted their thoughts as a crisp white dove with a golden crest and sapphires moved to make a glamorous landing on Gilbert's outstretched finger.

At first it chirped flirtatiously, shifting its gaze between the two of them. Then they heard a voice, smooth with dulcet tone.

"Why, mes chers! Fancy seeing you here! Oh, how I should love to stay and join you! But I must be off."

A kiss to each of their cheeks, surprisingly soft and warm for a sharp beak.

"Just, don't forget! Young love is sweet!"  
And he was aflutter again, leaving behind a spicy fragrance of wine, cinnamon and roses.

"Francis is weird," Gilbert remarked, turning to Matthew.

"You're so awesome, Gilbert!"

"Well, of course! But you're so perfect that I can't even think of a compliment!"

They leaned in until their faces were almost touching and Gilbert could smell Matthew's saccharine breath. Suddenly, his foot began to tickle horribly.

"Nn…stop it…"

The itching persisted, when at last a sharp pinch shocked him and the willow tree melted away, along with the sky and finally Matthew himself.

"Shit," Gilbert muttered.

It took several moments for the world to come into focus. Several possible situations flashed through his head before he perceived that he was in his own home, curled up in bed. At some point during the night he had kicked off his blankets, which were currently crumpled in a pile on his floor—it actually improved the appearance of the room by obstructing a mound of dirty laundry, empty wrappers and other junk from view.

The itching in his foot had not disappeared, so he kicked out reflexively.

A panicked "cheep!" a moment later had him shooting up straight in bed to blearily identify the source. His foot had connected with a certain fluffy yellow bundle, which was now sailing across his room, waving its wings frantically.

"GILBIRD, _NO!"_

His heart nearly stopped. Thankfully, Gilbird managed to slow himself down before he crashed into the wall. As Gilbert watched with relief, the little chick turned around and flew over to circle his face. With a loud, angry "Peep!" he scratched Gilbert's face before settling among his silver hair, digging in his claws in consternation.

"My awesome face!"

The mark was thin, but still bled slightly.

"I'm so sorry, Gilbird! That was unawesome of me, huh? Anyway, I'm glad you're okay. I'll give you extra food for breakfast to make up!"

The next peep was decidedly more cheerful. Gilbert hustled to prepare some seed and dried food for Gilbird, still feeling slightly guilty. Once Gilbird had been dislodged from his perch and placed in front of his (overflowing) food dish, his dream immediately flooded back into memory in all its flaming heterosexuality. Gilbert was horrified; he was turning into a pansy—it was the gayest dream he could recall having in all his life.

The first thing he did was dig out his phone and send Francis a two-word text "Fuck you." Francis was too strong an influence on his subconscious.

"Ugh."

Gilbert walked into the bathroom and grabbed a tube of toothpaste, squirting some directly into his mouth and using his first two fingers to scrub it in. His toothbrush had been sacrificed for a better cause the spring before, when Gilbird had need the bristles to build an awesome nest that would attract him a mate. Gilbert had never bothered replacing it.

Once he judged his teeth suitably clean he examined the cut in the mirror. He would need a Band-Aid to cover it. Gilbert had a large collection of novelty Band-Aids; Antonio and Francis had gotten into the habit of buying him a few boxes every once in a while. They had explained that it was to keep him from making them patch him up after his frequent fights, but even after he had stopped fighting, the continued out of habit. Some were cute, rainbow or with chick patterns. A few were cool, with interesting geometric patterns or even more _interesting _phrases. Most, however, were entirely Francis's taste. Ranging from suggestive (phrases and images) to outright strange (condom themed, for example) and somehow, even seductive. None of those had ever been opened or used, but they were there.

He did not have a single box of normal Band-Aids. Therefore, he chose the censor-bar themed Band-Aids, because they were simply black strips. Francis had said they were to cover all of his "dirty marks," but they would suit bird scratches just as well. He did not spend much longer in the bathroom, instead returning to his room and excavating his backpack out from under the fallen comforter. He thought about picking up a bit, but discarded the notion quickly. Ludwig would probably take care of it eventually, next time he tried to forge a path in to recover some item that had been "borrowed" for the long term by Gilbert.

Two messages glowed on his phone screen; one from Francis involving "taking him up on that offer," and one from Ludwig telling him to "wake up and get downstairs if you want a ride." So he did, throwing on a clean-ish t-shirt off the floor as he walked. His pants were still clean, probably.

As expected, his younger brother was waiting downstairs with breakfast ready, looking freshly starched, ironed and pressed.

"Luddy~ I love you! So nice, taking care of your poor, defenseless _bruder!_ What would I do without ya?"

"Probably leech off of someone else."

Gilbert smirked; there was not much he could counter that with. Then he set to the food, demolishing the eggs, toast and potatoes with apparent delight. Then he gulped down some caffeinated soda and jumped up.

"Hurry up, Luddy! Wouldn't wanna be late!"

The blond groaned at Gilbert's antics.

"There are _so _many things I could say to that, starting with the fact that _you're_ the slow one, and ending with questioning the motives behind your sudden interest in school at all.."

"Kesesesese! Secret!"

"Mein gott, you're insufferable!"

"'s why ya love me~"

"I wonder, sometimes."

The last was said as they buckled into the car and prepared to drive off. It was not that Gilbert was unable to drive; he just preferred not to. For one thing, it was a pain to follow all those silly rules, and he hated dealing with parking and paying for meters. Also, he had awful road rage, often swearing and gesturing rudely at innocent pedestrians if they walked too slowly. The drive was carried without any more talking, since Gilbert had stuck a German rock CD into the radio and was busy actively listening to it (by "actively," he was dancing and nodding his head fiercely to the beat). Antonio and Francis were already waiting by the door by the time they got there, so Gilbert leaped out of the still-moving car as it slowed and ran over to join them, leaving his little brotherto take care of parking.

"Yo, bitches! Missed me?" He slung his arms over their shoulders, pulling them close with a grin.

"Oui, oui, but Toni and I have been _quite _curious about that text you sent me!"

"You were so mean to Franny~! How come?"

Gilbert recounted his dream quickly, omitting the more sappy parts and ending with his conclusion that it was _all _Francis's fault.

"You're finally _blossoming_, cher!"

"Gilly is so cute!"

"See? Fuck you both."

A certain slender figure approaching in the distance stopped him. He shoved his bag at his friends.

"Hold this, and be careful 'cause I think the Awesome Gilbird mighta snuck in this morning." Then he walked quickly (not ran, mind you!) to intercept the path of the boy. Matthew was walking slowly with his head facing the ground, a red sweatshirt with the hood pulled up covering most of his head. Despite that, and the distance between them, Gilbert was _positive _it was Matthew; he exuded some unique, _Mattie _aura, or something.

As he got closer, however, it became clear that Matthew either did not see him or was pretending to ignore him. How lame.

"'ey!"

No response.

"Hey! Mattie!"

He was ignored again. Gilbert began to feel slightly frustrated, since it was embarrassing to be stared at for shouting for seemingly no reason. Just as Matthew was about to slip by, Gilbert's patience snapped and he grabbed his arm.

"Y'okay, Mattie?"

Matthew glanced up at that, worry and perhaps slight fear visible in his eyes, but also some vague relief.

"Y-you can see me?"

"Well, duh! How could someone as awesome and great as me _not _see you?"

Gilbert was slightly surprised and miffed by Matthew's comment. _Not see him? _After the day before? _And _his totally_ not _awesomedream?

"W-well… What do you want, anyway, Gilbert?"

"You."

Gilbert paused; he had not quite meant it to come out like that.

"I mean, y'wanna hang out, or something? I just thought, well, y'know, it'd be fun?"

The expression on Matthew's face could only be described as bewildered. His eyes widened, and since he did not say anything Gilbert began growing (even more) flustered. His normally calm arrogance was slipping, and he ran his hand through his hair to conceal it.

"Just if you want to, though, I mean, it's totally cool if you're busy, or whatever. I'd understand."

It seemed that Matthew was finally beginning to process the situation, judging by the color of his cheeks.

"W-what were you planning?"

That stuck Gilbert in an awkward position; he had made the suggestion on impulse, not wanting the other to walk away. He made up something, the first place to come to mind.

"Well, there's this new burger joint that just opened in the city. We could grab a bite after school?"

Something akin to hope shone in his eyes.

However, Matthew's answer was an automatic negative.

"No."

The quick recovery from heartbreak to forced cheerful conceit would have been comical if it was not so unexpected. Gilbert released Matthew's arm and his smiled dimmed, but it was still there.

"Oh, well, it—"

"But, I _do_ know of this café with excellent coffee and waffles…"

This time the drastic personality switch _was_ entertaining, as Gilbert's grin widened to the point of almost splitting his face in half and the hope and excitement shining in his eyes multiplied by several times.

"_Really? _Awesome!"

He threw his arms around the smaller boy in an enormous hug.

"Kesesesese! Though, of course I never doubted it!"

"G-gilbert?"

The bell rung then, signaling the impending start of class. Gilbert released him and beamed.

"It's a date, then!"

"A…date?"

Whoops. Gilbert blinked and flushed slightly; it sounded different when Matthew said it in that soft, cute way of his.

"Well, ah, class is starting! Gotta go! See ya after school; here's my number!"

Gilbert pressed a slip of paper into Matthew's hands before trotting off. He was not running away, of course.

Now to doodle through several hours of excruciating boredom.

* * *

…**.I disown the dream sequence. Disown. It pained me to write, really. I mean, it was kinda fun and all, being melodramatically cheesy, but I nearly puked at the sugar. Ugggh.**

**When did y'all realize it was…creepily strange, by the way? Prolly pretty soon XD**

**How is this idiocy my longest chapter so far?**

**Second, this chapter revealed my mild but undeniable sadism. I was doubled over with laughter, tears in my eyes and everything, at the image of Gilbert sending Gilbird flying into the beyond. –is strange-**

**Plus I got to sneak in some GermanyxPrussia brotherly shtuff :DD**

**This chapter took longer than the others, 'cause I'm moving next year and spent the week packing. Ran outta time. I was acshully onna plane yesterday, which is where I wrote most of this chapter. It was fun. I'm in sunny CA, only for a bit, 'cause I'M GOING TO JAPAN. OHYUS.**

**My life is preeetty much complete. I'mma take so many pictures, just to say I've taken pictures of Japan's vital regions :D**

**Therefore, updates'll be uber-slow/nonexistent for a couple weeks. I'mma try and get a bunch of writing done, but no promises on typing etc. I'll be back full-force after ^^**

**Thank you all soo much for all the love this fic has gotten! It makes me soooooooo happy ;w; **

***O*! I didn't expect this good a reception for it; I thought I'd get a few reviews at most, and I could **_**never **_**have expected all the alerts/favorites! Ahh, I'm so pleasantly surprised~**

**I always worry about my writing/plot styles, so now I have ultimate goals of improvement so you can enjoy it! **

**Ah, and this ficcie is dedicated (?) to my sister, whose account is Suavior. She gets to read for me. And type some of it, since I type sooo slow. And she helped with the stupidly painfully idiotic dream sequence.**

**Peace out!**


	8. Chapter 8

"…"

Matthew was stunned. There went the rest of his day; there was no way he was going to have a shot at getting anything out of class. He felt remarkably similarly to how he had after their first meeting; that silhouette fading into the distance was an exact mirror of that time, as were his stirred up emotions.

He might have stood in the same place for the rest of the day, were it not for the fist that suddenly whacked him upside the head from behind. It was that Cuban transfer student, his somewhat-occasional friend. From the throbbing soreness in his head, it looked like today was one of their off days.

"Alfred, you bastard! What'd you do with my—oh, hi, Matthew. Didn't see you over there!"

Matthew cringed as a tanned arm was thrown over his shoulder and barked laughter rung in his ear. The violent greeting followed subsequently by a cheerful, oblivious smile was beginning to grate on his nerves.

"I-I've been here the whole time…You just hit me…"

'Well, shit! Sorry, dude! Y'just look so much like your brother! Which reminds me, th'bastard borrowed some money a few weeks back, an' he needs to pay up."

Matthew was dragged along by the chokehold around his neck as his friend began to rant, making a list of all of Alfred's faults and negative characteristics. While the blond certainly did not disagree with most of them, he had heard this particular tirade before—he knew it well enough by now to recite it in his sleep. Which would have been interesting, considering who shared his room with him.

The conversation, one-sided as it may have been, served to distract him from his own problems. They parted soon after entering the school, each belonging to different homerooms.

The rest of Matthew's day passed uneventfully. He dutifully passed in whatever homework he had done before fading into the back of the room. Every class crept by, the hands on the clock moving impossibly slowly around. So he was surprised to hear the final bell ring at the end of the day; it felt like no time had passed at all. The slip of paper in his pocket beckoned, encouraging him to just go for it. He stared at the number, committing it to memory but not managing to work up the courage to actually dial it.

A buzzing in his pants caught his attention; he had received a text message, apparently from that very number on the paper in his hand. It read: _"hey man! its the awesome gilbert, tho u prolly already kno that!"_

He tapped out a reply, curious.

_how did u get my #?_

_Easy, Fran gave it 2 me. got it from Artie who got it off ur bro._

Matthew blinked. From Alfred? Of course. He would have to have a talk with him about passing his number around so easily, although in this case he did not mind much. He felt a bit of nervousness flutter in hi stomach as he stared at the phone. What was he to say? He went with the tried and true.

_Wat's up?_

The response came quickly; Gilbert must have been accustomed to texting.

_Nm. U busy?_

_no._

_come 2 the front of the scool_

_K._

Since his backpack was in a locker on the other side of the school, he decided to leave it; he could go a day without doing homework, or borrow Alfred's (although that might result in an even more disastrous grade).

Sure enough, he saw that familiar mop of silver hair loitering by the entrance. When his eyes met with Matthew's they lit up, causing unfamiliar warmth to surge in his throat and choke him. He waved over tentatively, silently giving thanks to whomever for the gift of being seen. Gilbert waved back even more enthusiastically, his intended smirk more of a sappy grin.

"Mattie, over here! C'mon, let's go! I took Luddy's keys, so we can drive. He probably won't mind; now he'll have to walk home with his boy toy."

"Ah, okay…"

What had Matthew gotten himself into?

"You're gonna hafta give me directions, though!"

"Sure, it's not too far." Matthew had a good idea of the address, although he had never actually been there himself.

"Feel honored, by the way. I don't usually drive anywhere, so this is an awesomely rare treat for you."

Matthew could not help a skeptical look at that.  
"…should I feel honored, or scared?"

Gilbert ignored that, though it might have been just that he did not hear. Their drive was mostly quiet at first, being as neither could think of a suitable conversation topic. Gilbert ended up switching on his usual music, which happened to be something he had told Matthew to listen to through IM as Ch1x13. The albino seemed pleased (and not a little surprised) when Matthew was able to sing along in German though, as he explained, he did not understand any of the lyrics.

"You're pretty awesome, after all."

He rolled down the windows after that, encouraging Matthew to join him in belting out various songs to freak out passerby. Whatever qualms Matthew might have had were overpowered by the sheer magnitude of Gilbert's careless confidence, and he found himself singing along, albeit less loudly. He gained courage of his own as they went, forgetting all of the embarrassing aspects of their (particularly Gilbert's) tone-deaf singing.

"Hey, is that it? We found it!"

"No thanks to you, Gilbert…. I think that was a police car back there," Matthew muttered.

"Psh, but I out drove it, and that's all that matters," replied Gilbert, unconcerned.

It was really only a small café, with a cute green canopy under the sign and potted plants adorning the windows, which were clear. A few of the tables were occupied already, mostly by elderly couples due to the time of afternoon. A bell in the door tinkled to announce their arrival as they pushed open the door.

"Hello, how may I help you, aru—oh, if it isn't Gilbert! It's been a while, aru~"

A small Asian man behind the counter smiled at the pair entering, although there was a hint of confusion buried in his brown eyes.

"Hey, you're that Wang guy, aren'tcha? Yao Wang, that bastard Ivan's friend? He's not kicked the bucket yet?"

Gilbert's tone was light but his gaze was sharp. Matthew looked between the two, not sure what to think.

"No, he has not "kicked the bucket," as you so rudely put it. We're doing quite well, aru,"

Yao, as he was apparently called, replied. He was also excruciatingly polite, though his posture was uncomfortable. He seemed to be worried about something, shrinking into himself to battle some inner demon.

"Damn. Naw, but I guess it's good you're okay. That time's over, huh. What're you doing in a place like this?"

"College is expensive, aru! I'm sure you'll find out for yourself soon enough. It's to pay the bills."

Whatever tension that had built up between the two dissipated. The man behind the counter's smile returned and Gilbert's eyes lost that strange menacing glint.

"Yeah, college… Oh, by the way! This is Mattie! He's..really awesome."

"What do you two want to order? It's on the house. For old times, aru."

"I'll order for us, Mattie! Why don't you get us a table? Just tell me what you want, I'll join you in a bit."

Matthew complied, not wanting to interrupt whatever was going on between Gilbert and Yao. He felt like he was intruding on something private by standing there, and while he was curious it probably was not his business.

"J-just pancakes and coffee, with extra maple syrup on the side…"

Then he went over to a table, choosing the one furthest from the counter. He did not miss the look that passed between them and the short whispered conversation that was clearly not about the quality of their pastries, but from that distance could not decipher the words. It was nice of Yao to give them free food, but it seemed more a placatory action than a gift.

Matthew, unlike most situations, did not mind the fact that he had been overlooked in this case. Gilbert clearly had not forgotten him (the way he kept looking back as if to check on him was almost endearing), but they had some sort of history. Unpleasant history, by the looks of it. Blond hair caught the light as he shook his head to clear out some of his thoughts. He could ask Gilbert; if it was something he needed to know at all that was the only way he was going to find out.

"I brought the food. Hold on a second; I have to go back for our drinks."

Two identical plates of pancakes were set on the table by Gilbert, with an additional maple syrup pot on the side of Matthew's. A pile of napkins was piled haphazardly between them, the edges of at least one of them already soaked with syrup and butter. Matthew stifled a giggle. Gilbert would make a poor waiter.

"Hey, Gilbert," he asked when the other teen returned. "What was that about?"

"I don't want to talk about it" was immediate.

The affront and hurt in Matthew's expression was masked quickly, but not quickly enough for Gilbert to completely miss it.  
"Well, it's a long story. Yao's in college now, but when I was a freshman he was a senior at our school. We..went through some rough times, and did some bad things. Haven't seen 'im since, and that's about it. I didn't know him well, but he and Arthur were…not close. I knew his friend, or boyfriend, or whatever they are, better. Hated the bastard. But we should probably talk about something less unawesome, now. I don't really wanna talk about it."

"Ah, okay," Matthew responded lamely. He did not quite know what to say after that without sounding either stupid or cliché. And the only other conversation topic, namely why he had kissed him, was not something he wanted to bring up. Gilbert's impossible optimism saved the day again when he reached over and spread some maple syrup on Matthew's cheek with his finger.

"Kesesesese~ Gotcha!"

His grin could not be beat. Matthew's violet eyes widened in surprise, before he succumbed to the contagious cheer and smiled himself before frowning in mock anger.

"You shouldn't waste food like that, Gilbert."

He then reached up his hand to wipe off the syrup as a distraction from where his other hand was moving to spread some whipped cream off Gilbert's hot chocolate on his forehead.  
"Now we match." He kept up a straight face while Gilbert sputtered and grabbed at a napkin to wipe off his face (inadvertently picking a dirty one and adding to the mess on his face) and picked up the silverware to eat his food. He poured a liberal amount of syrup onto the already-doused treats and put the rest in his coffee, before Gilbert could decide to make more of a mess.

"Damn you," Gilbert said with an undisguised smile. He stared at Matthew's generous use of syrup but did not comment; he knew the stuff was delicious, and it was not like he had skimped on his own.

They ate in comfortable silence, enjoying the atmosphere and the noise of other people's chatter. At last Gilbert made a move to speak. He looked slightly nervous, for some reason.

"This might sound a bit odd…But do you by any chance have an IM account?"

* * *

**DONE. **

**At last xD  
Yay, a cameo of Cuba!**

**So, I got to the point in this fic where I'd written out my planned beginning but am not far enough in to write the major plot stuff I've planned for the end, and hadn't quite planned out the middle yet…so I wrote a vague shorthand outline-y thing. It's super indecipherable, but it looks like this'll go til somewhere between 20 and 30 chapters….I won't promise anything specific, since knowing me the plan will be randomly changed as I go. I mean, I didn't have China mentioned in my outline for this chapter at all XDDD  
I have uber-major-exciting plans for future fics in this AU now, though who knows if I'll ever get there…Plus I now have at least two more unrelated multi-chap things I wanna write XD FML. I mean, every time I see anything or listen to anything these days I'm all "I wanna write a ficcie with that in it!" Like, really. I'm writing a child!RussiaxChina oneshot now because I saw some dandelions on the side of the road. Ugh.**

**I goes to Japan tomorrow YAY~ **

**So I'll be there for a while…Said this before, but this might be the last update in a bit.**

**PEACE and GAY RAINBOWS, DOODS.**


	9. Chapter 9

Somehow Gilbert found himself awaiting Matthew's response with bated breath, or some other clichéd phrase. He had not quite understood why, but all of a sudden the question had slipped out and he had begun hoping for a certain answer. Odd. In any case, it was entertaining to watch the strange emotions flickering through Matthew's eyes. He thought he saw a moment of recognition, but it could just as easily have been confusion. His cheeks were flushed, and for some reason he looked slightly nervous.

"Y-no, I-I don't…."

The moment of truth had come and gone, and although Gilbert felt crestfallen for a moment he tried not to let it show. It was not all that big of a deal, in the end. He allowed himself to release the breath he had been holding through his teeth as he listened to Matthew continue talking.

"I-I mean, I've meant to, but never really… Y'know. But I can still text?"

The raised note at the end of his sentence made it a question, and a rather endearing one at that. The albino softened at the deflated look on the other boy's face.

"Sure. That'd be cool.  
He still felt a bit disappointed that Matthew was not, in fact, T0PSP1. It would have been awesome, and Gilbert had been so sure! He made a great detective, after all; this failure was just a fluke. And it did make sense, thinking back. T0PSP1 lived miles and miles away, and he probably was not even a high school student. For all Gilbert knew, "he" was actually a "she" (though he doubted that). It didn't change anything, though he still could not entirely purge the feelings of regret.

Well, fuck it. He had a cutie to hang out with, one that totally appreciated his ineffable awesomeness.

They hung out in the café for a couple of hours after that, enjoying the food and just talking. Gilbert was the more animated of the two, gesticulating wildly with his fork to emphasize his points. However, once he had gotten over some of his initial shyness, Matthew surprised Gilbert by being very articulate and fun to talk to about the strangest things.

From music (besides German rock, Matthew was a fan of classical and folk, a combination which Gilbert could not comprehend) to favorite animals (polar bears vs. the Almighty Gilbird) and world history (Gilbert was pleasantly surprised again when Matthew not only allowed him to ramble on about Prussian military campaigns, but also seemed at least slightly interested), they covered multiple topics. And although he personally would have preferred to just take the free food, he left behind a generous tip at Matthew's insistence.

It was still light out when they exited (although it was sure to not last long, since the days were getting shorter), and rather than returning immediately to the car they ended up wandering down the street.

Matthew's hands were swinging peacefully at his side, unaware of the temptation they posed for the teen walking alongside them. He wanted to just take the plunge and grab onto one, yet was unable to shake the memory of having done the same in his dream the night before. His embarrassing, sickly-sweet, unrealistic dream. Damn. He was blushing again, wasn't he? He could feel the heat in his cheeks. What was it about this kid that did that to him, anyway?

It was lame, and not very manly, and he found that he did not mind all that much. Okay, maybe he minded a little. Just enough to look off into the distance and start whistling some annoying tune rather than be girly and try to hold Matthew's hand.

The song he had chosen to whistle happened to be extremely catchy, and he could hardly help bursting out and singing right there on the street but decided to hold back for Matthew's sake. Perhaps some other time.

They began approaching a park after a few more minutes of walking in semi-silence (semi only because of Gilbert's totally _not _irritating whistling). It was a small park in a pocket of urban industrialization, walled off on three sides by apartment buildings and shops. There was a tiny walkway leading in with skinny, frail trees offering minimal shade around the edges of a fenced in playground. Gray benches were placed tactically around the border of the various plastic climbing structures for concerned parents to be able to keep and eye on their kids and be easily able to offer a quick soothing word or kiss a scraped knee. A few toddlers were running around, screaming bloody murder and laughing like maniacs while their respective guardians chatted and gossiped.

Gilbert led the way to an unoccupied bench, gesturing for Matthew to sit first. The blond had seemed a bit downcast since they left the café; even when he was saying something else, his eyes would shift a little, as if there was something else he wanted to be saying. Gilbert, never one to think hard about the feelings of others, decided not to comment, although he did feel an odd twinge in his chest. He knew that look, if he was not mistaken. When a girl was getting bored or annoyed by his quirky personality but was too polite to tell him outright she began to show signs of that look. The pre-rejection disinterest, something he was quite familiar with and _hoped _he was not seeing.

He was awesomest of the awesome, wasn't he? Only pansies thought otherwise, and Matthew seemed pretty cool. Surely he was thinking something different, or Gilbert misread him. To cover up his worry, he decided to make conversation.

"Hey, Mattie!"

Poke to his arm.

"What's up?"

Violet eyes turned to stare at him without batting a lash. Gilbert was poked back and gifted with a small smile.

"Not much. Thinking."

There it was again, that little glance to the left. And now he was chewing nervously on his (soft, pink) lower lip, a tic that did not go unnoticed by Gilbert. Not a good sign.

"What of," he asked with sincere curiosity.

"You."

Gilbert burst out laughing at that, although his heart had admittedly skipped a beat or two. Matthew was blushing fiercely, although he laughed as well as he stammered out a further explanation.  
"I mean, y'know, what a good time I've had, today. That came out wrong."

"Now you know how I felt."

He would have added more, but was laughing too hard to gather breath, in that weird "kesese" of his. People were staring, but to hell with them! It had been an odd, confusing day, and Gilbert was feeling more than a little slaphappy. Not only that, while they were eating he had gotten a couple of text messages from Francis and Antonio that added to his amusement. Francis wrote "Hope you're having fun, cher ;D Dont forget my offer!" and Antonio had just sent him an odd emote that somehow managed to resemble a tomato and a "good luck!"

"good luck w/ wat?" he sent back, although he knew well what Antonio had meant. Francis he left alone entirely, since the two were likely together and would know that his silence was pointed.

"I feel ignored."

Awh, Matthew was pouting now, drawing Gilbert's eyes again to those (pink, soft) lips and knitted eyebrows.

"S-sorry, Mattie, it was Francis and Ant—"

Then he recognized a glint of amusement in Matthew's eyes and stopped.

"I figured," Matthew said, wearing a smile that on anyone else could have been construed as a smirk. Not Matthew Williams, though. He didn't smirk. He was too, well, _nice _to smirk (although he was giving a good impression of one).

Gilbert's mouth opened and closed a couple of times, imitating a beached tuna.

"Why, you!"

This deserved revenge, so Gilbert decided to be mature and do the adult thing. He stood up slowly from his side of the bench and walked deliberately to face Matthew. Then he leaned over, face completely serious, and tickled him. Apparently Matthew was extremely sensitive under his armpits and around his stomach, but not so much around his neck. Important information to remember, although Gilbert wasn't putting much thought into tactics as he attacked the smaller man.

"G-gil, st-stop it! I'm…super….ticklish," Matthew choked out through his forced laughter.

At last Gilbert _did _stop, finally satisfied that Matthew had been taught his lesson thoroughly. He sat back beside the blond, arms almost—but not quite—touching.

"There. Now you know what happens when you tease the Mighty and Fearsome Gilbert."

"Real terrifying."

Matthew, who was still smiling from the tickling, seemed entertained by Gilbert's foolishness. He didn't look bored anymore, at least. The outright staring had stopped as people realized they were just being strange, but a few passersby were still giving the pair surreptitious glances out of the corners of their eyes. The kids on the playground were blissfully ignorant of the oddity of their actions, none stopping their games to watch "them crazy teenagers."

A few pigeons that had flown away earlier began resettling around the perimeter of the sidewalk, hoping for some discarded food. Gilbert felt uncomfortable, not talking, but he had run out of things to say. Likes and dislikes, friends and enemies, shared interests, all were things that they didn't know about each other.

What did Matthew do in his spare time?

What movies did he see?

Sure, sitting in awkward silence was getting old, but it was better than accidentally saying something offensive and driving him off. There wasn't much he could do about his innate awesome, but he could at least make some effort in other areas.

It was confusing. Francis never seemed to have trouble getting in a relationship. Sure, he was not all that good long-term, but Gilbert had never even gotten _that _far. Girls flocked to the blond, his easy manner and free compliments. One stupid joke by the albino and the girls'd run away, but Francis could never (verbally) wrong them.

And Antonio had this effect, too. Every word out of his mouth had godlike powers, practically, in getting a girl or guy won over. The accent helped, but wasn't everything. Gilbert knew that, since he had been told "You've a sexy voice, if I ignore the words," by more than one person before getting rejected. Of course, Antonio was no longer "on the market," so to speak, and _everyone_ knew that Francis was only out for one-night stands. Unlike Francis, Gilbert was not a "wham, bam, thank you 'mam," kind of guy—partly because he never had a chance to get any, these days.

Gilbert didn't have any other close friends to observe, but even his somewhat friend Arthur Kirkland had it better than him. The guy was bad-tempered, arrogant and "a total prick," as he himself might put it (about someone else). His thick eyebrows and unruly hair should have rendered him completely unattractive, but somehow people seemed to like his piercing gaze and sharp words. Girls and guys alike (whether or not they "swung that way") swooned over his apparently sexy British-ness and cool attitude. Hell, he even had Alfred _Fucking _Jones tied in a neat ribbon around his pinky finger, and he didn't even _try. _

Gilbert just did not understand. He did try (kind of), and he _knew _he was likeable; he liked himself well enough, after all! There was no one he liked better, as he was never hesitant to announce. Not that he was a virgin, or anything. Some rumors were 100% correct. But alcohol and drugs loosened everyone, and certain things were best left buried in the past. None of them were proud of those times, or at least what they could remember of them through the haze. Of time, of noise, of craze and body heat, powders and liquids. Lots of different fogs.

Suddenly, Matthew's voice blew away Gilbert's thoughts. However, it was not exactly what he had wanted to hear.

"I have to go."

Shit. He was right.

_Always the same story._

_

* * *

_

**I'm baaaaaaaaaaaaack! Sorry for the wait~ OH MY GAWSH, JAPAN IS AWESOME. I loved it so much! It is the coolest country ever! He, rather XDDD  
I visited Tokyo, Kyoto and Hiroshima.  
Reactions:**

**Tokyo: There were lots of attractive people, and fashion was AWESOME. Everyone was cool, and the subway is **_**excellent**_**! I could see living there, though I'd need to learn more Japanese. **

**Kyoto: Beautiful city! I saw like 5 temples. One day we biked for…many hours….It was fun… but I hadn't biked in like a year, and was wearing a skirt and flip flops…XD Everyone there was so friendly!**

**Hiroshima: All we did there was visit the peace museum. It was very moving. Made me feel shame, not to be American, but to be human. There was a lot of unnecessary pain there, as in all battles and all wars. War irritates me, since people start them when they are A. looking for land, power, money, or B. attacked by those who want A. I spent hours in every room, reading and looking at everything, and just thinking. My family had to drag me out, since I finished every room half an hour behind them. It was a humbling experience, really.**

**Overall, I had a great time in Japan. My life is made. If I die now, I die happy. Though I guess then I'd never finish this fic XD**

**-two hours later-**

**So I wrote the other stuff earlier, and would have posted this, but I went to see a movie instead! Scott Pilgrim Vs. The World. I loved it, very much; spent the whole time geeking out both over the content and over HOW MUCH FUN IT MUST HAVE BEEN TO EDIT IT~ Gah, it was cool XD Plus, I was totally in love with his gay roommate XD And there were a bunch of Hetalia-fangirl inspiring ads before it, to make it even better.**

**MKAY. Need to shut up. I'll post this nooow~ Warning/apology about probable typos; too lazy to read it over. **

…

**P.S. **

…

**I took pictures of Japan's vital regions ;D**

**...**

**P.P.S. **

**I put in an inside joke for a friend, so I hope she laughs at it. Well, not really an inside joke, but a word we like due to a certain pair of authors. The book is Small Gods. Yes, I'm a HUUUUGE Pratchett fan, and Gaiman is always awesome, too XD **

**If anyone else knows the word I mean/likes Pratchett or Gaiman, review so I can fangirl about them! Yurrrsh, really truly peace out now.**

**Peace. **


	10. Chapter 10

It was almost six o'clock, and his parents were probably beginning to worry. Alfred staying out after school they were used to; he had sports practice, after all. Matthew, however, had returned home by 3:30 every day for his entire high school career, without fail. Even if he decided to go out shopping or to the library, he would notify them beforehand, as much as a few days in advance.

He had sent a quick text, but knowing his mother that would hardly be good enough. And their father had a strict rule about being home for dinner so they could eat as a family, unless there was an important reason to be away (i.e. a game or a date with a "nice young girl"). If he had been thinking logically he would have left more than an hour before. But he hadn't been; he was having too much fun, and more than that he was afraid if he lost this chance it would be his last.

For all he knew Gilbert would tire of him or forget him over the weekend. Come Monday everything would probably be back to normal, so he might as well enjoy this anomaly while it lasted. He could take a quick scolding from his parents. Perhaps they'd be glad for the change of pace, as would Alfred. This was what Matthew thought, anyway.

Gilbert looked a bit strange, although Matthew couldn't imagine why. He was probably busy thinking about his awesome again.

Smiling a bit at the thought, Matthew looked Gilbert in the eyes and continued.

"Yeah, it's getting close to dinner and my parents don't like us out late."

He paused when there was no reaction from the albino, unsure whether to keep going or not.

"I-I can take the bus home, if you like…"

He then began to stand. It was difficult to tell what Gilbert was thinking, so he assumed that he ought to just get going. The other was probably busy, or something. Right as he turned away a hand grabbed his wrist, preventing him from fully walking away.

"Wait—Lemme give you a ride!"

And now Gilbert was energetic again, clearly giving off some aura of pleased self-confidence. At this moment Matthew had the sense that he would _never _fully understand the workings of his mind.

"Well, thanks then. I'd like that," Matthew said truthfully. A pang in his heart reminded him that he _had _lied to Gilbert, sort of, about his identity.

He just couldn't face the thought of telling him, partly because it shouldn't matter but mostly because he was afraid. Afraid that when the time came, as it inevitably would, for Gilbert to no longer want him "IRL," that then, at his lowest point, he would also lose his closest friend. That he would have to be alone as he nursed a broken heart. It wasn't like he could run crying to his parents for comfort; he would be disowned before he had the chance to say "So, there was this guy…" And although Alfred in theory would understand, by nature he wouldn't be able to comprehend a thing. Alfred's problems lay in his own fears about being accepted by himself and by society, not in being rejected by the object of his affection.

Someday Matthew would leave home, move far away and only call home every once in a while, never bothering to look back. He would live his life however it pleased him. But for now he had had a stroke of good luck, and he didn't want to waste it. He would get to know Gilbert, and hopefully prevent his parents from ever finding out.

"Hey, Mattie, what d'ya think about driving? You seem like you'd be good at it."

Gilbert tossed the keys over to Matthew, who instinctively reached out to grab them (and then must have looked as surprised as he felt for not dropping them onto the pavement).

The blond cursed inwardly (although with little profanity); he had let another long stretch of time pass without speaking as they walked. And here he was, thinking about how to win his crush over.

"You sure? I when we _did _manage to escape accident when you drove, pretty much," Matthew said, already preparing to get in the car. Gilbert seemed a bit flustered by the comment, so his ego kicked in to cover up.

"Psh, I did awesome and you know it. I'm just not in the mood, 's all. It's not cool enough for me."

"Perfect for me then, eh?"

"That's not what I mean! Stop twisting my words; I don't like thinking that fast. Anyway, you know the way."

That sealed it well enough, seeing as Matthew had no objections on principle to driving, although it wasn't something he did often, having Alfred as a brother. The car was an automatic anyway, so he didn't have to figure his way around a stick shift.

"True. So… you doing anything fun tonight?"

Lame questions for the win! Who was Matthew kidding… He sucked at this "flirting" thing…

"Well, I gotta invade Francis's place to pick up Gilbird later. That's my pet chick; you should meet him some time, he's awesome!"

"Your pet…chick?"

"Yup! He's fluffy and cute, and super badass."

Gilbert Beilschmidt was probably the only person in the world who would describe his pet as fluffy and badass in the same breath. It should have seemed strange for a guy like him to have a little chick as a pet, but it…suited him, somehow. Matthew said, without turning his eyes off the road, "So, you like cute things?"

He could see Gilbert staring at him from the passenger seat.

"I do _not,_" he said indignantly, although he looked like he was thinking about something.

"Never mind," he continued, "maybe…just a little. But only awesomely cute things, mind you! I'm no pansy-assed wuss."

Matthew opened his mouth to say something but closed it again as he was forced to swerve around a bad driver. They missed crashing by a narrow margin, although the scare had Matthew slamming his hand on the horn.

"Learn to fucking _drive, _bastard!"

Whoever it was had just stopped in the middle of the road, becoming a roadblock for various other now-furious drivers, Matthew among them. He _hated_ it with a passion when people drove badly. It wasn't a game; people seriously died because of reckless idiots who behaved that way. A few moments after they had cleared the next green light he exhaled slowly. Then he remembered that he wasn't alone.

"S-sorry! I lost control…"

Gilbert was shaking with laughter, contrary to the appalled reaction Matthew would have expected.

"That's some fierce road rage, Mattie! Nice! I bet the guy'd be scared shitless if he could see you. But really, wouldn't've expected it!"

"I-I hope not, but he really shouldn't have stopped like that! It's dangerous!" Matthew looked over for a second while the light was red but focused again soon after.

"I better be careful around you, kid. Don't wanna end up killed."

"I wouldn't kill you.. Though I guess I'd get pretty mad if you were that _stupid."_

Gilbert laughed harder at that, reaching over to slap Matthew's back (and sending him forward into the steering wheel for a moment). His house was approaching in the distance, a cute little place in the suburbs. He pulled over at the end of the block, since there was already a car in the driveway and him pulling up in some unknown vehicle would seem suspicious.

Although Matthew could practically feel the time ticking away (Oh, was his mother going to be _mad_), he didn't want the afternoon to end. Then he unbuckled his seatbelt with a rueful smile.

"Thanks a lot, Gil. It was fun."

He opened the door and stepped out onto the curb. Gilbert got out as well; he needed to switch seats.

"Yeah. Hey, y'know what'd be even better than you texting me tonight? Us hanging out again tomorrow."

Matthew hesitated on the sidewalk.

"R-really?"

Suave, Matthew, real suave, he thought to himself. Gilbert didn't seem to notice.

"Yeah, send me a message later! Tomorrow's the weekend, anyway. Unless you have plans?"

"No, I'm free, completely!'

"Good, since there's no way anything you'd be doing could beat hanging out with me. Talk to ya later, then!"

Matthew watched as Gilbert got into the car and drove off. He stood still for a few seconds afterward, but eventually started walking over to his house. It was only a short way from the corner, one of those cute places painted a sunny yellow. They had the kind of yard that allowed flowers to grow freely in manicured beds, but god forbid a single grass be cut with anything but military precision.

He tried to let himself in quietly, but as he had predicted his parents were practically waiting at the door. Not literally, but the living room was near enough that by the time he had shut the door behind him they were there in the hallway. Neither looked happy; his mother's usually smiling lips were pressed together in a thin line. There was no cheerful glimmer in her eyes, which was a bad sign. Her foot tapped slowly on the floor as she watched him enter. Beside her his father was staring him down with his arms crossed over his chest.

"Matthew Williams! Where have you been!"

His full name was only ever used in extreme cases (for him, which for another might be a good day. Matthew didn't get up to much mischief).

"Well, I—" he began nervously.

"Stop," his father commanded. "I think we'll want to be sitting to hear this."

Without saying anything else he turned back to the living room, the other two following close after. His father and mother both sat on the couch, leaving only the armchair diagonally across from them open for him to sit on. He did sit, choosing to perch himself hesitantly on the edge of the chair rather than lean back.

"So, Matthew," his mother began. "What made you think that it would be a good idea to stay out after school, doing God-knows-what, and not bother to _call _or inform us beforehand?"

"Your mother was worried sick about you!"

Matthew prepared to tell them the truth (or part of it, anyway).

"I went out…with a friend? We just kinda hung out, and I'm sorry, but it was really last minute so I didn't get to tell you…"

Both parents seemed taken aback at this, but sadly it did not look like the shock factor was going to be enough to cover up punishment entirely. His mother was at a loss for words at first; her natural instinct to extract all information about this new friend was warring with her parental worry and irritation.

"We were so scared, you know! You could have been killed or mugged and we would never have found out!" By "we" she mostly meant herself, not that Mr. Jones didn't care for his sons. Matthew just couldn't imagine his father getting overly worked up about this kind of thing, an idea supported by the way he was already looking over at his watch as Mrs. Williams continued talking.

"And anyway, who was this "friend" you were with? Why haven't you told me about him before? And why were you so careless? That's not like you."

"I'm _fine, _mom; I barely went anywhere! We drove in Gilbert's car, and we didn't go more than a few blocks."

For some reason his father looked him sharply in the eye at that.

"Gilbert? You mean that Beilschmidt kid?"

Mrs. Williams turned to her husband, seemingly forgetting her anger at Matthew—for the moment.

"Wait, Mr. Beilschmidt's son? The one who…you know, that one? Our Matthew is friends with _him?"_

Something akin to mixed fear and astonishment was flickering in her eyes, but unless Matthew was imagining things his father looked _proud._

"Mom, dad, what's going on? You know Gilbert?"

"Not him, son; his father is my boss. He runs my branch of the company." It looked almost as if he was going to say more; Matthew braced himself for oncoming judgment. But it was silent, his father's face unreadable and his mother visibly confused. It was understandable, Matthew supposed; he felt more than a little mixed up himself. Gilbert was son of the president of a major company? It just did not suit his image. There was a lot Matthew didn't know about Gilbert, as was now made painfully clear.

"Matthew. Your father and I are going to need to have a talk about this, but I think it's best you aren't reprimanded further; you did get home before dark, after all. Just..be responsible. Don't let this happen again."

There was some strange subtext he was missing, Matthew was certain; this kind of response was extremely out of character for his mother. And she was fidgeting in her seat, looking suddenly rather desperate. In contrast, Mr. Jones couldn't hide the slight upturning at the corners of his mouth.

Matthew rose to go to his room, thinking that they were done. As he walked by his father grabbed him by the arm.

"You're tougher than I thought, son, mixing with that sort of crowd. Don't go to the wrong kinds of places."

After closing the door behind him, Matthew hesitated in the hall. He could hear his parents talking in hushed tones.

"…don't want him mingling with…."

"…offend the boss."

"But why would….not at all…I think…"

"…good for him."

So intently was Matthew focused on the scraps of conversation that he almost missed a text from Gilbert.

_U didnt txt D:  
__rply whn u get this. Wanna go 2 the pond 2morrow?_

_

* * *

_

**OH MY FREAKING GOD I FEEL SO FAIL ;w;**

**I'm sooo sorry for updating so slow! Real life is a bully, but I think I'm getting on a sort of a schedule; shouldn't be so horridly slow next time!  
Next chapter will also be Mattie's POV, since it fits better.**

**I decided on Mr. Jones and Mrs. Williams, as if she decided to keep her maiden name; that way I could have an excuse for Alfred Jones and Matthew Williams.**

**Anywho, if you've stuck with this I'm madly in love with you. For serious, you make my life just for deciding to read with my little ficcie, for whatever it is :D**

**By the way, last chapter A/N I failed and said Small Gods (written by Terry Pratchett) instead of Good Omens (Pratchett and Gaiman). I was tired, and I **_**do **_**really like Small Gods. Excuse the fail that is my brain~ To any of y'all who knew the reference, you are an epic, epic person.**

**Less than three times infinityyyyyy**


	11. Chapter 11

Saturday morning, bright and early.

Wake up to the sound of the shower down the hall and lie in bed for a while.

Shower stops.

Blearily roll out of bed and rub sleepy eyes at the clock.

_6:47_

Great.

"My life sucks," muttered Matthew. There was no such thing as a lazy day at the Jones/Williams house, unless you could sleep through the apocalypse that was Alfred's early morning routine. As usual Matthew contemplated getting up and yelling at his brother for the irritation. Instead, also not unusually, he postponed the complaint in favor of padding down into the kitchen to see about some sugar and caffeine. Maple syrup really was the best cure for grouchiness, he decided. Another reliable remedy for a bad mood was the sudden recollection that one had a (if he was feeling brave) _date_ later that day.

That thought alone was enough for smile softly into the counter as he poured coffee into his favorite mug (decorated with a softly autumnal sunset) and unscrewed the sticky cap on the maple syrup. He drizzled some in unsparingly, not even bothering with cream to soften the flavor. A little stuck to his hand and he sucked it off absently before moving his drink to the kitchen table. He was just beginning to relax, when suddenly came a mad stomping down the stairs.

Shiiiiiiiiiit.

"What happened to my glasses? Wait, where's my-oh, it's already seven? Fu—shoot, at this rate I won't be able to run before practice!"

"The glasses are probably buried under your sheets, like they always are," responded Matthew to his disheveled brother. Alfred was impossibly predictable.

"Oh! I didn't look there!" Soon Alfred was gone again, running upstairs to throw his glasses (in their case) into his running bag so he could use them when he was done. He claimed it was easier to run without even contacts, so his surroundings wouldn't be a distraction, or something. Either way, Matthew heaved a sigh of mixed relief and exasperation. He did love his brother…most of the time.

Back to his steaming container of glorious heaven.

* * *

It was strange, the attachment Gilbert seemed to have to parks. Surprising to Matthew at least, especially considering that when he got there half an hour before their planned meeting time, Gilbert was already there. And he wasn't waiting impatiently, or anything; Matthew could see a pair of ear buds nestled half-covered by silver hair. His eyes were closed, and he was resting with his head on his arms. Matthew could almost imagine the song playing, judging by the slow tapping of those black sneakers.

Instead of calling out, Matthew slowly walked over to where Gilbert was lying in the grass and sat silently behind his head, taking care to remain unnoticed. It was strange, seeing the older boy so completely relaxed. The devilish smirk had slipped off his face into something softer, and the wicked laugh lines usually creased in the corners of his eyes had smoothed. He looked happier, somehow; it wasn't that he seemed more innocent, but rather less arrogant, and wiser.

His skin was so pale, almost translucent. His hair, so striking in the light (it often got him in trouble, as well, since no one seemed to believe it was undyed), was only slightly darker, and when he was lying still they almost seemed to blend together. Matthew wondered if it was soft to the touch.

"Hey, wh—oh, it's you!"

Matthew started, jerking his hand back. He stared at it in awe, clenching the fingers to make a fist. Somehow his musings had translated themselves into actions without him realizing; Gilbert, having already sat up, pulled his headphones out and began rolling them up for easier storage.

"S-sorry," he mumbled quickly. "You have soft hair."

Gilbert didn't seem to hear the last part, or if he did he did not acknowledge it, much to Matthew's relief.

"I'm glad you came today! Francis and 'Toni were busy with their own plans, and I was just gonna hang out at home. Not that I'd be lonely, but it's just kinda boring when no one's around, and yeah."

"That's good for me, I guess."

They lapsed into a sort of silence at that. Matthew flushed; for some reason Gilbert seemed to be examining him intently. It was intimidating, but at the same time rather pleasant. His heart rate sped up immediately, and he could feel his stomach tingling. He felt himself licking his lips unconsciously, and by the way those red eyes moved it was obvious that Gilbert noticed it as well.

Prudently, he decided to look away. Because of that, he didn't realize that Gilbert had leaned in until he felt the warmth of another hand on his own.

Something was rising in the air between them, something intangible that choked up Matthew's breath. They were very close, he noticed. Close enough to touch, and for a moment Matthew thought he saw Gilbert beginning to lean in closer.

He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out so he closed it again with a slight click of teeth on teeth. His eyelids began fluttering closed, when all of a sudden there was some sort of loud laughter on the road behind them.

Immediately both of their heads turned to look at the offenders. It took Matthew less than a second to process that the two walking down the street had not even glanced over their way, and thus could not have been directly mocking them. He heaved a quiet sigh of relief at that, turning back to face Gilbert. What he had expected was perhaps some snarky joke, or at the very least an amused smirk. That was not what he saw.

Gilbert seemed to be in shock. He was frowning, and his eyes had not yet left the two figures slowly walking by on the path. Violet eyes squinted over in curiosity to examine them further.

It was what looked to be a couple, a girl and a guy. They seemed to be about Gilbert's age, and as he looked closer Matthew realized it to be the school's most famous couple, Elizabeta Héderváry and Roderich Edelstein. He didn't know them well, but he'd seen Elizabeta around Kiku sometimes (wearing a distinctly terrifying expression), and her hairstyle was unmistakable. The way they were holding hands was also impossible to miss, and even overlooking that, the way their relationship was made clear by their eyes. There was some sort of inner light there, something completely special. It seemed they only had eyes for each other, that the rest of the world could disappear without either taking note.

It was heartening to realize that that kind of thing still existed, but it made Matthew remember the truth of his position all the more. He stared ruefully at the side of Gilbert's head, willing him to turn around, and to somehow banish that look in his eyes.

_Look at me._

But wishful thinking was unsuccessful, so he tried the next best thing and cleared his throat. At once Gilbert's full attention was back. Now that he had been distracted it seemed his rationality had returned; not one time after that did Matthew catch his eyes flickering in the direction of the receding pair.

"Gilbert. What was that?" He kept his tone firm, but couldn't keep the questioning look from his eyes.

"Nothing," Gilbert replied, tone smooth.

Matthew tried again. "I don't believe you. What's wrong?"

Something strange passed over Gilbert, and for a moment Matthew expected him to not respond. After a long pause, Gilbert spoke.

"It's a long story, I guess. You want to hear?"

Matthew merely nodded. More silence.

* * *

**DUNDUNNNN.**

**Mkay, so this quicker updating thing is not working as I had planned! There are a number of reasons for that, but the primary one is my AMV editing. I have become re-inspired in editing, and since RL is also hanging around, my already-limited spare time is being even further cut down.**

**I really haven't a clue of what to do, BUT. I've decided on a way to try to make it up to you. **

**STARTING THIS MOMENT, I am offering open requests for videos! Any anime, any song, any pairing, whatever! It can be left in a review, a message, on my YouTube account (same username Lliasa) or any way I can be contacted. Only requirement is to have read this A/N (by default, since you'd otherwise not know)**

**There are NO RULES/REQUIREMENTS. If it is a pairing I don't ship, that's my problem; I'll edit it anyway. This is for you! Same goes for songs! The anime/series does not matter; if I don't have it, I will download it. If I don't know it, I will watch it. **

**Obviously, there is a slight catch; if it is an anime I know/have, a pairing I love/ship, or a song that I like, there is a higher chance of the video turning out to be longer; it is unlikely that any vid be less than 20-30 seconds or much more than a minute, anyway. **

**Doesn't have to be Hetalia~! (though I love it xD) (OOooh, though it'd make my day if someone requested a DRRR vid)**

**These videos will be dedicated to your YouTube account if you have one, your if you don't, and name of your choice if you're anon.**

**Here's my thinking: I WILL be editing amv's anyway; that isn't a question—I'm too addicted. Therefore, I might as well make my list something that you guys would want to watch…..because I'm depressively slow at writing these days. **

**No one has to request anything, though! Don't feel obligated! It'd make me really happy, since I like having a purpose.**

**MY ONE WARNING: I'm not really all that great at editing (;w;) but I am working my hardest to improve!**

**Finally, once again, thank you for sticking with my fail and I hope to see you sooner next time!**


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